


The Color of Periwinkle

by entishramblings



Series: LOTR/TH One-Shots (character x character) [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff, Fluff, M/M, cuteness, some wounds/injury, that is why the first chapter of this fic is ONLY platonic, we do not condone pedophilia, you can decide if the rest of the fic is platonic or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:07:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28560303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entishramblings/pseuds/entishramblings
Summary: The three times Aragorn braids Legolas’s hair
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf, Legolas/Aragorn
Series: LOTR/TH One-Shots (character x character) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043151
Comments: 10
Kudos: 120





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> the first part of this fic is 100% completely utterly platonic (no matter what)....the rest of it, however, you may decide for yourself

The Woodland Prince had come to Rivendell to deliver a message from his father and opted to stay for a couple days. Hence, the elf currently stood upon a long winding balcony letting his gaze linger amongst the breeze of Imaldris, for it had been long since he last visited.

It was quite pleasant; he never got much time to observe the beauty of nature when he was at Mirkwood. Therefore, Legolas let his senses become captivated by his surroundings. His vision was ensnared with the purple, red, and orange leaves that were just beginning to fall from the swaying trees. His nose was engrossed in the fresh air that had started to cool as the colors of the sun begun to fade. And his ears were preoccupied by the hushed breaths and faint giggles of a child.

A soft smirk tugged at Legolas’s lips for the child was indeed not aware that Legolas knew of his presence. But, how could the Mirkwood Prince _not_ be conscious of the little spying creature? After all, elves had quite incredible abilities.

Once the the next muffled laugh sounded, Legolas finally turned his head to look; and it was then when he caught the gaze of the curious eyes observing him from behind the corner of a wall.

The elf couldn’t withhold the urge to play with the little one, for it was quite obvious that is what the child wanted and, quite frankly, it was adorable. Besides, it had been some time since there were children running around the Woodland Realm.

Legolas moved from his spot and poked his head around the side of the stone—only to startle the human.

_Human?_

_Quite strange._

The soft smile and gentle gaze of the Mirkwood Prince seemed to assure the child that he was in no danger for he did not back away.

“What is your name, little one?”

Inquiring eyes they were, pooled with the silver of shining metal and periwinkle buds, as they gazed upon the blonde Prince. Yet the child did not speak so Legolas opted to do so.

“I am Legolas. I come from the Woodlands to visit with Elrond.”

The dark haired boy’s expression changed at the mention of Elrond, clearly recognizing the person they spoke of. This common figure among them seemed to initiate trust within him for he spoke, all worries left behind. “Estel is what they call me.”

Legolas smiled in response before speaking, “Won’t you walk with me, Estel? Perhaps we might come across Elrond; he is quite fun to play pranks upon.”

Estel grinned at his sentence. “How would you know he is fun to trick?”

The Mirkwood Prince glanced down at the boy with a raised brow and spoke with a teasing tone. “Because I was the one who used to do it!”

Surprising the elf so, Estel reached up and took his hand. The two began to stroll around the paths of Imaldris, talking of the various escapades and antics that they had let loose upon the Lord of Rivendell.

By the time the pair of pranksters had made it inside, the clouds in the sky had been replaced with twinkling stars.

Legolas chose to sit on the floor by the fire in the library, for he supposed the little human might be cold. And indeed Estel joined him.

The intrusive little hands of the boy reached for Legolas’s hair.

“May I braid it?” He asked. “Arwen has been teaching me!”

A light chuckled left the Mirkwood Prince’s lips for he could not hold it back. “I suppose you may, but do not tangle it for I cannot face Elrond with a bird’s nest of hair.... _again_.”

Estel released a bright laugh at the elf’s words and begun to weave the golden strands together. 

It was after a long plait was completed, resembling that of a fish’s tail, that Lord Elrond stumbled upon the pair. Yet, he could not bring himself to force the boy to go to sleep for the scene before him was just too pure.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the years, Legolas had visited Rivendell often— _often for an elf that is_. Sometimes Estel was there and other times he was not. However, the child had grown up of sorts. Now, a man with stubble and a ranger with blade he had become. Strong and lean—built with muscles and hours of training.

Estel had still remained close with Legolas. The elf was one of the first ones he told of his true heritage and they spent much time together. The Mirkwood Prince would come with him on various scouting missions and even taught him how to use a bow. However, it was not always as easy. It was clear to the elf that Estel finding out his true heritage and what happen to his kin took a toll. He became quite reckless. He would dive into fight after fight, abandoning logic and discipline. But Legolas would keep a careful eye on him; yet his gaze could not always be spared from his royal duties. It was one of these times that the young dunedain was too rash.

Legolas had been making his way to Rivendell and, quite frankly, it was only luck that he stumbled across the bloodied plane when he did. A scouting trip appeared to have gone terribly wrong. Bodies of orcs and rangers alike littered the grass—staining the forest floor with death. Among all of the carnage, stood one man with a sword of red.

“Aragorn?” Legolas called out in worry as he dismounted his horse.

The man’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. “Legolas?” He called out in surprise.

The elf, quick on his feet, made his way to the center. “What happened?”

Aragorn shook his head in response.

Legolas clenched his jaw, “Did you move in too quickly? Did you scout ahead in advance? Did you—“

The man cut him off with a sharp irritated tone, “ _Enough!_ Do not chastise me.”

The elf breathed hot air from his nose, “Aragorn, men have died.”

“You think I do not know that?!” His rough voice grated out.

Legolas sighed, “I am just—“

The elf stopped speaking and whipped his head around as his elvish ears picked up the sound of a plucking bow. The following whistling of an arrow did not escape his attention either. Instead, it showed him the target.

_Estel_.

Legolas jumped forward just as the sharpened weapon was to thud into Aragorn’s chest. Rather than finding a home in the ranger’s heart, it buried itself into the elf’s shoulder.

“Legolas!” Aragorn hollered.

But it was too late.

The elf cried out as pain ruptured through his arm.

Another arrow came whizzing at the two, yet it just missed them.

“We must go!” Aragorn yelled as he pulled Legolas back to his horse.

As the elf struggled to climb upon the steed, Aragorn grasped his friend’s bow and let loose a couple arrows in the direction from which they came.

Curse words tumbled from his lips as it seemed he had not met his mark for more came back to him.

Hopping up behind the elf, he urged the horse to make hast.

They were quick to escape immediate death but that was not a solution, for as they went Legolas’s breath was labored and he seemed the slump against the man behind him.

As concern pooled in his mind, Estel spoke. “What is wrong, Legolas?”

The elf shook his head and hissed out one word, “ _Poison_.”

By the time they thundered into Rivendell, Legolas was unconscious. Healers rushed to them instantly and pulled the elf away from the sorrow-ridden Ranger.

Time slowed for Estel as worry edged its way into his heart. There was no doubt in his mind that this was his fault for Legolas was right. He had been too reckless—too rash—and the elf had paid for it.

When dusk settled into the sky, Lord Elrond finally came for the pacing man.

The dark haired elf placed a hand upon Aragorn’s shoulder as he spoke. “He will be all right, Estel. I was able to pull the poison from his blood. He just needs rest.”

Relief washed over the ranger as the words registered in his mind, for if anything had happened to his dear friend he would surely be lost to grief.

“May—may I see him?” Aragorn uttered quietly.

Elrond nodded and guided the man to the room where Legolas’s unconscious form laid.

The elf was still, frozen like the icy lakes of winter. His porcelain face was pale as clammy sweat sleeked his brow—giving his skin a periwinkle tint. His lips were parted and eyelids closed. If it was not for his bare chest rising and falling gently, Aragorn would have thought him dead.

The Ranger slowly shuffled forward until he was at the side of the bed. The white dressing upon Legolas’s shoulder was wrapped firmly around the wound with only slight red seeping through. It did not look bad, but Aragorn knew that the wound itself hadn’t been fatal— _it was the poison._

He sat upon the mattress as Elrond left him alone with his thoughts.

It was then when Aragorn could not help himself, for his shaking hand reached towards the blonde locks that sprayed out amongst the sheets. Slowly, he took a small section and began to plait it together. The repetitive notion seemed to calm his anxieties so he continued until the golden locks were filled with a bunch of tiny braids. They were a bit out of place, but Aragorn was no expert. He only knew he felt better when his hands were busy and upon the elf.


	3. Chapter 3

Nowadays, Aragorn was the chieftain of the dunedain. He had grown up much, one would say. No longer was he hotheaded and rash; instead, his recklessness was replaced with caution and deliberately contemplated decisions. A good change indeed. Yet with his responsibilities and Legolas’s princely duties, it was not likely for the two to be in the same place at the same time. So, it was merely by chance that they were both visiting Rivendell during the same season.

Many elves were wandering the Rivendell meadows and gardens for the spring’s breeze was gentle and freeing. Legolas, who spent his days in darkened corridors and the dreadful shadows of Mirkwood’s sickness, was certainly one of these elves.

The blonde prince rested on his back with the green grass and vibrant flowers whispering upon his skin. He let his eyelids flutter closed as the warmth of the sun spread within his chest and the scent of honey and jasmine filled his nostrils. His heart felt at peace.

“You’re father would not approve of wasting time like this,” A voice stated smugly from above.

Legolas cracked a smile for he recognized the tone immediately. “What he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.”

The Ranger sat down next to the elf and let his forearms rest upon his knees. Aragorn seemed to also let the serenity of nature settle over him as he plucked at the various colored buds sprouting below him.

“So strange that such a small thing could be so beautiful and intricate,” He murmured under his breath as he examined the vein-like shapes within the petals.

Legolas sat up and carefully removed the flower from his friend’s grasp. “You are quite correct.” He paused for a moment as he examined the light periwinkle floral leaf, “You know, this color reminds me of your eyes.”

Aragorn let out a deep chuckle as he took the flower back from the elf.

A long moment passed as the two enjoyed the gentle lull of nature.

Surprising the Mirkwood Prince, Estel reached forward and let his fingers slip through one of Legolas’s blonde locks. The elf sent him a side glance of slight confusion but did not stop the man. The Ranger scooted behind his friend and began to plait his hair once again, weaving the small flowers into it as he went.

Aragorn spoke softly, “You know, this color goes well with your hair.”

Legolas smirked, “Is that your way of saying that my hair goes with your eyes?”

The Ranger rolled his grey orbs and tugged slightly on the elf’s blonde locks, “Is that _your_ way of saying so?”

The elf shrugged as he tried to hide his grin.

The two sat there, in the meadows of Imaldris, for they both felt at peace wrapped in the color of periwinkle.


End file.
